It's one of those days, and Ross isn't in a terrible mood but he's been better, you know? For once his family has nothing planned except dates or RockBand and it's Saturday night so it's not like he had work. No press stuff or AVR or interviews. Just an off day... In more ways than one.
He's taking a drive by himself, just letting the music take him wherever it goes. He passes young couples giggling as they meander down the street, and he sees a women juggling her baby in one arm and groceries in the other as she walks up to her home. He goes by an older man sitting on the ground at a corner, clearly coming down off some sort of high. He sees the world existing around him and he feels absolutely indifferent.
He decides to hit up The Escondito, a cheap but lively bar in downtown LA. Nothing like a local band playing covers of good music while you drink.
He sits at the counter and produces ID for the bartender. She offers him a menu and quick smile as she goes to wait on an elderly man a few seats down. He skims the beverage list and of course you have your usual suspects: beer, rum, vodka, tequila. He checks his wallet to make sure he's adequately prepared for the check, and when the girl returns he orders.
"Can I get a bottle of the Tequila Rosé?" he asks, pointing to the picture.
She hesitates and does a once over of him. "You ever drink before?" she wonders.
He nods. "Not tequila, but yeah..." he replies, confused.
"Honey, this shit'll kill you faster than any bullet if you're not used to it, and frankly it wouldn't be very good for business if I let you die in my bar." He frowns. "How 'bout I start you off with a shot," she suggests, reaching below to grab a glass. "It'll do just the trick."
He shrugs. "Okay, then. Thanks."
She pours him enough for the shot glass and pushes it towards him. "There you go, hon. It'll do just the trick for you."
He eyes it cautiously but looks up at the bartender. "For what."
"Well whatever you've come crawling here for. Breakup, I'm guessing?"
He shakes his head. "I wasn't in any relationship," he explains.
"Ah, so you're pinin' over someone then? A girl, a boy? I don't judge. Although getting drunk isn't exactly the best solution to your problem." She pauses. "Okay never mind, maybe I do judge." She grins.
"I'm not pining over anyone," he laughs.
"Mhm," she hums condescendingly. "You'll tell me eventually. People like you always do..." She offers him a flirty grin and moves on to serve someone else.
He looks at her while she's not paying attention. She's cute, he thinks to himself. She's only an inch or two shorter than him and has platinum blonde hair up in a purposely messy bun. Her eyes are light grey, a colour he's honestly never seen on someone. She's definitely not hard on the eyes. Nice rack, too.
She catches him staring and comes over with a knowing grin. "You're either lookin' at me to stall drinking your tequila or you already drank it and poured yourself another and now it's hittin' you pretty hard," she comments.
He looks at her, puzzled. "Why is it hard to believe I'd be looking at you because you're worth looking at?"
"Sweetheart, people only come in here when they're sad or desperate or both, and since you haven't told me which you are yet, we're just going to say you're desperate. At least until you tell me otherwise." She pushes the glass forward some more. "Cmon, drink up."
He ignores her. "I'm not sad or desperate," he answers roughly.
"Drink."
He glares at her uneasily but picks up the glass anyway, lightly swirling the alcohol in the cup, taking in the smell. What does he have to lose, really? She smiles once more and he downs the drink in less than a second, gasping for air when he swallows. She giggles.
"Taste good?" she chuckles.
He squints his eyes and sticks out his tongue. "It burns," he wheezes.
She walks away with an indecipherable look on her face, but he thinks she's trying not to laugh at him.
"Fuck," he whispers harshly, desperately trying to will the flaming sensation in his throat to ease. He slams his hand on the counter in protest of the pain and to his surprise no one flinches. He flinched, even. He pries the menu off the counter and searches for something to lessen the taste of this tequila shit, though he does already feel a buzz or something coming on.
He motions the pretty girl over. "Can I have a Kahlua Mind-Eraser?" he asks. His speech already is becoming less-coherent."
"That's not a good idea, hon," she shakes her head. "You're lucky you ain't on the floor yet. A Mind Eraser, as appealing as they sound, could very well knock you so far on your ass you won't remember half of your life..."
"It's..s'okay," he slurs mildly. "I promise I'll drink that and call sssomeone to come get me." He grins widely, showing teeth a plenty, and she sighs.
"Okay. I'll get you the drink, but darlin', I don't want you goin' anywhere at all tonight until I see to it that someone comes in the bar."
He nods. "You're the bessstest."
"Mhm." She quickly assembles his drink and slides it over. "You're s'posed to drink this with a straw and I grabbed you one, but it'll last longer if you just sip it."
He smells it eagerly. "Smellssss... Smellss good."
She leans down to his level, the exact wrong spot if you ask him, since he can see her tits easily and they're pretty nice, but she stays. "So, you've been here maybe twenty-five minutes and you're already takin' the big drinks," she begins. "Are you ready to tell me what you're trying to forget?"
He slurps the Kahlua through his straw, making God-awful noises and he wipes his mouth with his jacket sleeve. "I'm telling you, no one'sss on my mind."
She leans over to the guy almost beside Ross and nudges him. "I give it, five minutes. Or the next ones on the house."
The guy, older and not as drunk, looks Ross up and down and laughs. "I'm not betting you shit, Lauren," he bursts, his laughter echoing through the bar. "This kid is weak as fuck." She giggles.
Ross looks at her and scowls.
He turns his back to them to finish his drink and sees a couple of guys at a table, swapping spit with a few half-dressed girls. Each of them reek of desperation. Maybe she was right. Only sad or desperate people associate themselves with bars like these.
But which was he? Sure, he hit on the bartender. Sure, she was hot. But he had no dreams at all to get with her. Was he sad? Guess so. But for what? R5 was doing great, Austin & Ally just got picked up for a fifth season (literally a miracle) and he and a Riker just got cast in to Criminal Minds for four episodes, playing reoccurring unsubs. His life is going great!
Maybe it's his status. Rydel and Ellington are together, Ry and Savannah, Riker and whoever he's dating that week, Rocky and Alexa, Laura and And-
Oh. The realization crushes down on him like a cinder block. Only a few short months ago he broke up with Morgan. They didn't feel right anymore. Part of the appeal of the relationship was no one knowing about it. People finding out just ruined the novelty. But aside from that they just didn't really.. Work. She was ready to get settled, relax, have a family. He's too young for a family. She knew that, he knew that. Hence the issue of dating older people.
The biggest part he would never admit to anyone - including himself (until now) - is Laura. She's so happy in her long-term relationship with Andrew that he's never really been able to settle.
Honestly, two or three years ago he was perfectly content with thinking it was a mild crush that would pass and when he was with Morgan it sort of did. But the feelings kept gnawing at him and tore him apart. Today, tonight, intoxicated on both alcohol and sadness, he admits that he's loved her for years and wants to fuck her in to oblivion and start a family and do all that cheesy shit in the future. But of course, when he's finally ready to admit something, it doesn't matter anyway.
He sighs. As he finishes the last slurp of Kahlua Mind-Eraser, the girls crawl off the guys laps and scurry to the bathrooms. He sees a guy with a mop of dirty brownish hair and a self-righteous grin. Well he sees a few of them, but this one guy in particular strikes a nerve.
It's Andrew. But the girl he was sucking the life out of was not in fact Laura. And that's not okay.
He slams the glass down on the table and stomps (in a somewhat disheveled manor) over to Andrew's table with purpose. Ross practically growls to get his attention. "What the fuck are you doing, sssshitsstain?!" he explodes. "Laura w-would have a ffffucking cow and a sheep and the whole goddamn barn if sshe knew you were cheating on her!"
Andrew stands up and laughs in Ross's face. "A little drunk are we, bud? Don't worry, Laura won't find out." The remaining three guys at the table stand up a little clumsily and tower over a Ross threateningly.
Ross does a sort of drunken "pfft" sound in response and lowers his voice. "She will, trust me. I'm nnot gonnnna let her date a fucking asswipe like you. You look like a fucking brussel sprout anyway.." He turns to leave but as he does he's thrown back to meet a fist to the face, knocking him off balance. His back hits the wooden floors with a loud thud and screams are heard from the girls as they come from the bathroom.
Ross lays there a second, trying to will the adrenaline to set in faster than it was going, because he's far too fucking wasted to take on four guys right now. They gather around him and laugh as he pulls himself slowly to his feet. They go to leave the bar and Ross calls back to Andrew.
"One more thing," he yells, adjusting his watch. He cups the expensive part (the clock component) in his hand and braces the clasp over his knuckles, and as Andrew turns around, a Ross puts all his energy in to his own punch, hitting him square in the jaw. The watch busts beneath his grip, cutting his hands all up and down and he drops it instinctively. It doesn't hurt yet (all hail adrenaline) but he kicks the remains over to Andrew's writhing body and - in the most menacing voice he can muster - says, "you owe me three thousand dollars for that watch but if you leave Laura alone we'll call it even."
Two of the guys that were accompanying Andrew literally throw Ross against the wall, and he notices that the bar is practically vacant except for a couple of scared people, the bartender and... Laura. His body goes limp when he sees her terrified expression and he can't move. He lets them kick the shit out of him, only hoping she didn't see what he did to Andrew, otherwise she'd never talk to him again.
He's not long for this world anymore, but as the cops show up and forcibly remove the brussel sprout and the other vegetables he relaxes a little, though he could just be losing feeling in his body altogether. She comes over and kneels before him and he hears sirens outside.
She's pissed, he can tell, but also looks relieved. She fusses over the blood on his body u til he manages to grab her hands. "Laura, sssssstop. I'm... Okay."
She nods and shakes her head nods again. "You're not okay, Ross. Believe it or not you're better off than Andrew, but you're not okay."
"How did you know I wasss here?" he whispers, losing the world slowly.
"Lauren called me, the bartender," she explains with a face full of tears, who then comes over.
"Hey darlin'," she greets him, kneeling as well. "I took a chance but you left your phone at the bar. You boys started yelling about a girl named Laura and she's the only one in your list so I called her." He sighs, embarrassed. She puts her hands up defensively. "Hey, I told y'all I'd figure you out."
He laughs and then the medics storm in to treat him. As they get him on a gurney, Laura grabs his hand. "Laura," he mumbles. "He was cheating on you."
She nods sadly. "I know." She leans down and kisses his forehead. "Thank you," she says.
"For what?" he whispers.
"For loving me."